The Safe House
by LadyDuchess82
Summary: After the opening sequence to QoS. An additional scene after the first major fight scene between Bond and Mitchell. The beginning of UST between Bond/M. Spoiler for QoS plot! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Bond!

Post QoS opening sequence

M is at the MI6 safe house shaken from the day's events, finding out that her personal body guard was a traitor had been quite a shock. Craig Mitchell had been an MI6 agent for eight years, M's personal bodyguard for over five. So many questions were running through her head, she couldn't focus on anything.

007 had chased after Mitchell, eventually killing him; he arrives at the safe house a while later bruised and bloodied from the fight.

"Is he dead?" The first words out of M's mouth when Bond enters the room.

"Yes, ma'am." Bond replied.

"You had to kill him, couldn't bring him in for questioning so that we might actually learn something." M barked.

Bond didn't reply. M noticed his face drawn taut.

"007, have you been seen by medical?"

"No, Ma'am. I wanted to be sure you were not harmed. I saw you running from the room, but things happened so quickly."

"That bastard didn't get me. God how could I have been so stupid, my personal bodyguard for Christ's sake!"

She looked very much her usual self, the only sign she was shaken was the slight tremble of her hand which held a large tumbler full of Bourbon.

"I'll have the doctor take a look at you," M stated after seeing Bond wince in pain. "Take your shirt off so that I can have a look at you." He hesitated. "Does that need to be an order, 007?" She sounded annoyed.

"No ma'am." Bond slowly complied with the request. The bruises and cuts telling a story of their own. No words were needed.

M made a slightly audible gasp and walked over to the phone.

"Could you send a doctor to my room immediately?" She turned back to face him.

"Go rest on the bed until someone arrives, you look like hell," M dismisses him.

The doctor looks Bond over, gives him pain killers and wraps his cracked ribs.

Sometime later Bond wakes from a restless sleep in a panic when he feels hands touching his arm. Instinct kicks in as he grabs M's arms pulling her forcefully onto the bed, pinning her under him.

"007, you're safe," M states softly as she lies completely still and flaccid in his tight grasp. Her own training has kicked in, knowing that if she tenses it would be a sign of aggression.

"M," was all Bond could say, shocked that it was her face he was looking into. "I must have been having a nightmare."

"Not surprising with today's events. I heard you talking and was trying to wake you."

"What are you doing here?" The confusion in Bond's eyes is clear, the pain medication making his thoughts foggy.

"You're in my bed James, we're at the safe house, remember?"

With that statement, he realized the position he is in. Pinning the head of MI6 to her bed, grip tight on her wrists, his body sprawled on top of hers so that she can't move. Her body was soft underneath him. Her dressing gown had been pulled loose, exposing her neck and a fair amount of cleavage. He sucked in his breath as his body started to respond. He quickly released her and rolled off the bed, pain evident on his face due to the quick movement.

M stayed in the same position on the bed trying to gather her thoughts and contemplating if what had just happened had actually happened. Was she mistaken in the response Bond had to her body? She rubbed one of her wrists with her hand and then the other. She sat up, adjusting her dressing gown.

"You should take more pain medication; you'll feel like hell tomorrow."

"I didn't mean to do hurt you; I'm not used to being woken up by anyone." Bond couldn't meet her eyes.

"You can't tell me that women have not woken you up from sleep before?"

"Not anytime in the recent past, not really since I became a double-0, not since Vesper."

"Oh, I see."

"My dreams are not usually pleasant; I never know what I'll do. You have proof it's not safe, I think you'll be bruised tomorrow." He's staring at her wrists.

"I think I'll be bruised tonight," she responds dryly.

Bond looks away in shame.

"It goes with the job Bond, you know that better than anyone, bruises are much better than a gunshot wound or worse."

"The bruises should not have come from me." His tone was low and stern.

"Oh bugger it, nothing long sleeves for a few days won't fix. Now if you don't mind, I would like to try to sleep tonight, it's been a hellish day."

"Ma'am." He nodded.

"There is a room for you down the hall."

James turns to go. "Goodnight."

"We'll debrief in the morning, I'm flying back to London at noon. I need answers about Mitchell." M turns to walk away and stops. "Goodnight James, and thank you."

Alone in his room, James replayed the day's events over in his head. The fear he had when Mitchell pulled the gun and shot at M unnerved him. Not a reaction he experienced often. His thoughts also drifted to having her pinned under him on the bed. Did she notice his reaction? She hadn't shown any signs. He must make sure not to touch her again or to at least be very careful if he did.

Months pass with only a few glances that last just a little too long.


	2. The Dance

*This was a prompt that was filled beautifully by Persiflage. I had written more than half when I read "This Shall Be My Dancing Day" and I just needed to finish it. We both had the same picture in our head of Judi Dench dressed as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Please look up the picture if you have time, she is stunning.

Eight months after The Safe house

The next time he touches her is at a masquerade ball, although he doesn't know it's her until it's too late.

James always had an eye for beautiful women; age never really was a factor for him. Some things are better with age. He notices an older woman walking toward him. She is dressed in an 1800's French style dress, deep purple in color with black lace down the center of bodice and around the lining; she is also wearing a long white wig pulled back in the style of the time. Her ample bosom is displayed rather nicely with costume jewelry lavished around her slender neck and an elaborate mask covering more than half of her face. She is stunningly beautiful; she looks like a Duchess or some member of the monarchy. His thoughts drift to M and he wonders what she would look like in a dress such as this. The picture is in his head before he has the control to block it. He watches the Duchess intently and she notices.

"It's ladies choice for the next dance." Someone announced to the party.

The Duchess is standing directly in front of him when the announcement is made. She is clearly inspecting him by eyeing him up and down. She chooses him, though she doesn't speak but curtseys and primly offers her hand to him. He decides to play along taking her hand in his, brushing his lips lightly across her knuckles before wrapping her in his arms.

His body begins to react at having her so close. Her perfume smells faintly familiar but he is unsure why.

They are well matched partners and if she were pressed against him the height difference would allow for her head to nestle under his chin. They would be a perfect fit. The music allows for smooth slow movements and all he can think of is how wonderful she smells and feels.

The dance floor soon becomes crowded; someone bumps into them causing his dance partner to lose her balance. Instinctively he pulls her close to steady her. The feeling is too pleasant so he keeps her close, feeling her body and the way it molds to his with the movement of the dance. He knows she is affected by this as well; the hitch of her breathing and slight shiver that he felt run through her body when their bodies met is proof. He leans down and whispers in her ear, "You are very beautiful, would you be shocked if I told you that I would give anything to see you in your jewels and nothing else?"

She begins to tremble again in his arms.

The music ends and they step apart. Their eyes meet and the unmistakable blue eyes staring back at him are mirrored with desire. James brings her hand back up to his lips, kissing her knuckles, before releasing it.

"May I have the last dance of the evening?"

The duchess nods, unsure of how steady her voice would be and turns and walks away.

It is just as well, Bond needs to focus as he is on duty.

Bond is currently on an undercover mission for MI6. He is trying to find an operative that has been leaking intelligence and government information. M is in attendance as is the Prime Minister, so security is on high alert. Several undercover agents are scattered about the room.

The costumes are all elaborate with everyone's face covered by masks. Bond continually scans the room; he can hear M in his ear piece occasionally, so he knows she is safe. Bond wonders if this was the best venue for trying to capture the operative, everyone's identity is concealed. The only saving point is that they knew where and when the information drop is going to take place.

Bond watches the clock closely and slips away from the festivities in plenty of time. The mission goes without a hitch; the operative is apprehended with little notice and taken away quietly for questioning. M gave her congratulations over the com link and wished everyone to enjoy the rest of their evening before signing off. Bond intends to do just that.

After a few drinks he goes in search of the duchess. She did after all promise him another dance and the evening was growing late. He spots her talking with a group near the terrace window, men mostly towering over her small frame.

The announcement is made that it is the last dance of the evening and the unveiling of the masks will directly follow. James goes to collect his dance partner. He overhears the duchess politely refusing a dance request when he arrives at her side. The familiar slight crack of her voice left no questions to her identity. He places his right hand in the small of her back, startling her, as she did not hear him walk up behind her.

"Gentlemen if you will excuse us, I came to collect the duchess as she promised me the last dance." Bond turned to her and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

The surprised expression from the group was quickly forgotten as she takes his arm and is led onto the dance floor.

"The duchess?" she asks curiously as the dance begins. James pulls her close allowing her to make the decision of how close they dance.

He speaks softly into her ear. "You look like a duchess tonight; before I was sure of who you were that's what I called you."

"And when exactly did you recognize me?" Her tone is flat as her body tenses slightly awaiting the answer.

"I thought I recognized your perfume but wasn't sure until after the dance, when I looked into your eyes."

She closes her eyes briefly and pulls slightly closer to James. He bends his head slightly and turns so that he can breathe in her scent. It is as if it is only the two of them in the room. The dance continues in silence with each lost in their own thoughts.

The unmasking transpires with several laughs and shocked gasps from around the room and everyone begins talking at once. No one notices the heated look that is exchanged between Bond and M.

The look on his face when they unmask after the dance is quite telling. He knows he has overstepped a very fine line, but regardless of the situation he still wants her.

The heavy lidded look she has on her face surprises him. She quickly recovers from her heated gaze and gives him a steel look.

"That was very …entertaining and educational Mr. Bond." She smirks and bids him a goodnight.

His voice stops her. Bond asks curiously, "Ma'am when did you recognize me?"

"I knew the second I spotted you from across the room, when I arrived." M walked away with that statement.

All that James could think of was, she knew it was him when she asked him to dance.

M didn't know what drove her to ask him to dance, temporary insanity or just the mystery of him not knowing who she was. If she were honest with herself there was a question that had been in her mind since Italy. Was he attracted to her? It was a line she didn't plan to cross but the surprise and question left in her mind from that night at the safe house wouldn't leave.

The moment she spotted him across the room she knew it was him. She recognized him straight away from the way his suit fit his body. It had become easily recognizable to her over the years, so the mask was no boundary.

The look he was giving her as she crossed the room made her flush slightly. It was nice to be noticed as a woman for a change and not just the head of MI6. She didn't think he knew it was her, and just in case she didn't speak, wanting to hide her identity a little longer. She could tell he was curious about her by the way he was looking at her and how he accepted her invitation as a dance partner with no hesitation.

When he saved her from almost toppling over and he pulled her body close to his, she discovered that she was not mistaken about his reaction to her in Italy. He wanted her and this time she knew it. The involuntary shivers of her body when he pulls her close let him know that she feels the same and when he whispers in her ear her knees almost buckle.

She can't be sure but she is almost certain he knows who she is when he requests the last dance of the evening. She does not know why she said yes, it could be dangerous to continue this.

The energy throughout the room is high due to the current mission and the high profile guests. M is relieved everything was resolved quietly with no notice being taken to a few less party guests.

The rest of her evening is spent in political circles making the rounds of the room having small talk. A task M does not enjoy. It is through this that M is introduced to the newest member of the Intelligence and Security Committee, Gareth Mallory. Her contact is usually only with the chairman of the committee. She has a feeling Mallory may one day have that position, he appears rather ambitious. He is polite, and appears rather handsome under his costume. He even offers to be her dance partner for the last dance.

The heat of the hand at the small of her back startles her. She noticed the envious glances she received from the few females in the group and the surprised expressions of the men when James comes to collect her. He called her a duchess, interesting. The title makes her feel rather stuffy and untouchable. It again places her on a pedestal above him, out of reach, just like her position at MI6. She doesn't like this.

She is pleasantly surprised when James tells her he recognized her perfume. That also means he had an idea it was her when he whispered the comment about the jewels in her ear.

The look he gives her at the end of the dance leaves no question for either of them, and after parting ways she needs time to think.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: I wanted to say thank you to TemporaMores for being a co-author for this chapter! She has been an amazing source of encouragement and help!

M walked quickly toward the exit to place some distance between herself and Bond. She needed to clear her head and try to forget the way he made her feel while in his arms. That line of thinking was unwise.

Bond quickened his pace to catch up to her before she exited the ballroom. "I should see you to your room." He offered his arm, leaving her little choice in the matter.

She took it reluctantly and was ushered toward the awaiting elevator. "This is really not necessary." She stated sharply.

"Humour me, please." James stated low enough for only her to hear.

They entered the lift. "What floor?"

"Ninth," M replied.

"What a coincidence, so is mine." A slight smile showed on his lips.

M took a slow deep breath, trying not to react to his closeness.

They exited the lift and walked to her door. M was rummaging through her evening bag for her door key while James was standing at her back when they heard the elevator door open.

James quickly circled around her side, taking her in his arms while turning to shield her as much as possible from the individual in the hall, and whispered in her ear, "Trust me." He then backed her against the wall and brought his lips down to meet hers in a soft kiss.

She was startled by his move. Irresponsible though he was, she would not have thought that he would actually do something as reckless as kissing his boss. At the same time, it felt insanely good. The way he tasted made her want more, but as she was about to push him away and give him a sound dressing down, she sensed the person from the elevator walking by. Her training kicked in, telling her that Bond had to have his reasons for doing what he was doing, so instead of struggling and pushing him back as every single ounce of reason had dictated before she had become aware of the passer-by, she placed her hands on his chest and leaned into the kiss. Their bodies were once again flush against each other, and suddenly she had her doubts if Bond's only motivation was the person walking past them. She could feel that he wanted her. And even though she knew it was entirely wrong, she felt herself responding.

The man that passed them in the hall did not linger long; it took him a moment to find his door key and then he disappeared inside his room.

James let out a soft moan. When they heard the door close down the hall, they pulled apart.

M retrieved her room key from her bag with shaky hands and said with an equally shaky voice, "Bond, I think you need to come inside."

Once inside, M walked over to pour them both a drink while James stood stiffly near the sofa. "Who walked past us in the hall?"

"The man you were speaking to when I came to collect you for the last dance, who offered to dance with you," James replied.

M closed her eyes on learning this. "Christ, that's Garreth Mallory! He is the new member of the Intelligence and Security Committee." She handed him a drink.

"I didn't know." Bond paused. "I thought that it was a remarkable coincidence that someone else made his way to our floor so shortly after us. I did not want him to see my face, to draw a connection between us other than that of sharing the last dance. Who knows if there were others here tonight that were connected to the man we apprehended? Everyone is suspicious. It is the only thing I could think to do."

She gave a short nod. After a moment of thought, her eyes narrowed slightly and she said sharply, "Great, so now he is thinking I'm having an affair. I have a husband at home, Bond. You forgot that fact."

Bond replied, "I'm not sure he'd care. But even if he did, he knows you are here on a mission, so he'll put two and two together."

"Will he?" M took a rather large drink from her glass.

"The committee understands you are involved with each mission on different levels. Even when it is not safe."

"Are you referring to Italy?"

"Yes, that could have ended badly."

"If I remember correctly, you were worse for wear. I only ended up with a few bruises."

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Bruises… some of them from me."

"I didn't mean that," she said reproachfully, meeting his eyes so that he could see the truth of her statement. He nodded in response. After a few moments of silence and almost as an afterthought, he added, "It still makes me feel bad though. After all, I've never had a more pleasant interruption of a nightmare. I hope you realize that."

She supposed she did; after all, she remembered his reaction to her very clearly. This was, however, a particularly bad point of time to dwell on this specific memory, so she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind. "Well, let's hope Mallory doesn't give that matter a second thought. Just promise me you'll never do anything remotely like that again."

"Not with him around, I won't," he retorted dryly.

She sighed. "Bond, I don't only mean with him around. I'm married and you know that."

"No disrespect ma'am, but you returned that kiss," Bond replied in a low voice. "You can't deny that there is an attraction between us."

"I don't deny it," M responded firmly. "But, James, I would never have acted on it." She met his eyes. "I have a husband, it is unprofessional, I am your boss and I am old enough to be your mother, for goodness's sake. What could you possibly want with me?" Her tone lowered as her resolve faltered.

James walked toward her, deciding to tempt fate by lifting his hand to brush along her cheek. "I don't want anything _with_ you; I want _you_, simply because you are who you are. Beautiful. Intelligent. Supremely irritating on long-distance calls." He paused for a moment. Then he added, "I've wondered about whether you were attracted to me since Italy at the safe house. At last I have my answer."

M grabbed his wrist firmly in her hand and lowered it from her face before releasing it.

"This is a line we cannot cross, James." M tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "We need boundaries."

"What sort of boundaries?" James asked.

"We can't be this close."

"You don't trust me?" Hurt was evident in his eyes.

"I don't trust either of us." Her voice was as unsteady as her breathing.

"You don't trust yourself?" He looked genuinely surprised for a moment. Then his expression changed and there was a look of determination on his face. "So what would happen if I kissed you right now?" He stepped forward into her personal space, taking her statement as a challenge. If he didn't press now, he might never get another opportunity.

"Jam…" His name was stifled on her lips as he kissed her deeply and wrapped his arms around her.

M's knees buckled this time with her weight being fully supported by James's arms. She clung to his upper body and moaned into his mouth. They were both breathless when the kiss ended.

"M, just tonight…" His tone was almost painful.

M couldn't meet his gaze. She lowered her head and pulled away, walking toward the window.

"I am not like your normal fare. I'm…" She broke off in mid-sentence.

"I told you that I want you. Why I want you." Bond replied, confused at her silence.

"You couldn't have me the way you have the women on your missions," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't have the faintest clue what she was talking about. She turned around and looked at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand what she was trying to tell him. "I'm sorry, M," he said, "but I don't understand."

"I can't just… when I want to. An old body doesn't work the same way as a young body anymore."

She saw realisation hit him and quickly turned back towards the window – not fast enough to stop him from seeing the embarrassment – or was it shame? – in her eyes.

He exhaled slowly and walked up behind her, placing his hands around her middle directly below her breast. Desperately wanting to reassure her, he pulled her back into his chest. "I have a few ideas up my sleeve," he told her, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I want to pleasure you, hold you in my arms; just let me."

James began caressing the underside of her breasts before leaning down and kissing the side of her neck.

The low cut bodice of M's ball gown allowed him access to kiss the tops of her breasts when she turned.

"The bedroom," M said between kisses.

They slowly made their way toward the bed, stopping for caresses and kisses, throwing Bond's suit jacket on the floor as well as discarding both their shoes along the way.

M worked on removing the pins holding the long wig in place while James unfastened her dress. She was stripped down to her underwear, a corset of black lace and a garter.

James couldn't control himself when he saw what she was wearing. He quickly deposited her on the bed and kissed her hungrily. M managed to get his shirt off but that was as far as he was willing to let her go. He needed control and he didn't seem to have that when she was touching him.

He trailed kisses down her body and stopped once he reached her navel. "Please?" he asked.

She nodded once in reply, unable to find words, breathing rapidly.

He began to kiss her through her lace panties. She was squirming beneath him, wanting more. He removed them swiftly.

M gripped the bed sheets in her hands tightly, trying to keep from seizing James's head when his mouth touched her flesh. He began trailing kisses along her thighs; he passed her centre moving to her other thigh, allowing his hot breath to tease her without touching her.

"Please," she choked out. Bond smiled. "All you had to do was ask."

"Christ," she called out breathlessly as his tongue made contact with her clit. Her hands went to his head, holding him in place. Bond's fingers quickly joined his mouth, causing M to arch off the bed as the tension built. She moaned loudly when her climax hit her. Then she tugged Bond up her body, kissing him roughly. She was surprised when she felt the proof of her own arousal on her lips.

"It looks like I'm the only help you'll need tonight." He looked smug.

She kissed him deeply, making him moan. They changed positions with him beneath her. Her hands were gliding over the muscles on his chest and upper body. She loved his shoulders. M began trailing kisses down his body, lightly nipping at his collarbone.

She caressed him through his pants. He was huge and rock hard. The kissing stopped as she unbuttoned his pants and removed them along with his briefs, swiftly taking him in her small hand. When she started moving her hand up and down his shaft, he almost came off the bed. He tried to regain some control.

His eyes were closed when she took him in her mouth. "Fuck," Bond swore under his breath.

Her mouth was glorious; her hands caressed his base and teased his balls.

When he could take no more, James pulled her up the length of his body and flipped her underneath him.

"I need to be in you."

As he began guiding his head into her opening, stretching it, he heard her intake of breath. He fit the sheets in his left hand on the side of her head. "Do you want me to stop?"

Her answer was to place her hand over his and guide him the rest of the way into her. "Just give me a moment to adjust," she whimpered.

Bond took several deep breaths to steady himself. His signal to move was when M wrapped her legs around him and drew his head down for a slow deep kiss. "Now, fuck me Bond."

The rest of his control was lost as he began thrusting against her. The hot slick heat that surrounded him was as intoxicating as the response she was having. Listening to her moan and feeling her dig her nails into his back sent him quickly to the edge. He reached between their joined bodies to stroke her, needing her to fall over the edge with him. When she began to tighten around him, he exploded inside of her.

James went limp on top of her, barely able to brace his weight enough not to crush her. She was slowly stroking his hair.

They stayed like this for some time until she brought them back to reality.

"You know we can't do this again." M said into the air. Her voice was firm.

"Yes."

"Bond, you should go."

"Just give us tonight," he mumbled. He moved up to cradle her in his arms. He was unsure of why he felt the need to hold her; he didn't usually have such sensations. Her response was pulling the blanket closer around them and holding him tighter.

They drifted into sleep thinking the morning was much too close.

When she awoke Bond was gone, his side of the bed still warm. On the pillow there was a note.

"_Our secret. J._" And she knew it was.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: My many thanks to TemporaMores for the additions and beta! I own nothing associated with Bond.

Bond was summoned to M's office early the next week. He arrived early. He didn't have to wait, being admitted into her office as soon as he arrived. M was on the phone but she indicated for him to have a seat.

He was wondering for a moment why she had told Tanner to let him in even though she was in the middle of a conversation, until he realized that she might have wanted to avoid the awkwardness of watching him walk up to her desk, not knowing what to say or how to greet him. He tried to put himself in her shoes. She was his boss and she was married, and she had told him rather bluntly that this had been a one-off, so she had to handle this professionally. Nevertheless, him entering her office when her last memory of him was sharing the same bed and being held by him must have been a daunting prospect. So maybe she had orchestrated the phone call to avoid an initial moment of awkwardness.

He had been wondering himself how seeing M after their night together would go. He was glad she was busy on the phone when he arrived; it gave him a moment to study her. She looked much as she always did, dressed in a dress suit with sensible shoes and all business. There was no indication of the new level of intimacy they now shared.

When the phone call ended, M met Bond's gaze and said, "How are you, James?" Her look gave nothing away but her mind was racing. What was he thinking? The slight smirk on his face should have been answer enough. She shouldn't be thinking about him, but the memory was still so fresh. Maybe distance and time would allow them to get back to the way things used to be?

Who was she fooling – things would never be the same for her again. She thought he'd be like a drug, one she'd always want more of, but with harmful side effects. He would disrupt her life, throw her off balance, and crack the delicate line of control she'd always maintained.

"I'm well, Ma'am, and you?" Bond knew to be professional, even though the fact that she had just called him by his first name had not escaped his notice. He had been afraid that she would have turned to ice, carefully let down all the shutters and blocked him out completely. In essence, he had been worried that what they had shared might prove detrimental to their relationship. It was a great relief to have been wrong about this.

"I'm well." She looked at the dossier on the desk and opened it. "I have your next mission, 007." She flipped through a few pages, handing him a picture. "You'll be going undercover to infiltrate an organization believed to be involved in smuggling illegal weapons into the country, among other things, but more importantly we need you to confirm if there is a plot to bomb targets in London. We've received intelligence that this is now the case, the leader of the organization, Robert Bladek, has been known to us for some time. MI5 has been involved due to the gun smuggling, but now that the threat has grown, it is time for us to step in. There are other undercover operatives already involved, so please be careful to protect their covers. Most are only field agents and we felt that a double-Oh was needed due to the recent change. We're estimating you'll be gone for three to six months. Bond, we need hard evidence to be able to prosecute, and we need this stopped before it has a chance to be put into action."

"Where may I ask am I going?" Bond enquired. He wondered how she felt about sending him out for such a long time. Would she miss him somehow, now that they had been so close? Or was it rather convenient for her to put some distance between them for a long time? Would it get him out of her system? Would she want that, get him out of her system? Not knowing the answer to those questions was nagging at him. He wished they could talk openly about this. He also wished she would look at him rather than keep her gaze fixed on the folder.

"The organization is based in Croatia; everything has been arranged. You leave in a week. All the other details you will need are in the file. Good luck, 007." She met his eyes. He scanned them for a clue – any clue! – as to what she was thinking, but her gaze did not give anything away. He hoped that he was not letting on anything about his thoughts either, but then he knew that his training had kicked in the moment he had set foot in her office.

"Thank you, Ma'am." They both stood. M reached across the desk to hand him the dossier and his fingers brushed across hers, very lightly, but also very deliberately. It was his last chance to try and elicit a response from her, to penetrate to the woman that was somewhere deep inside the person standing behind that desk. Her breath caught, and he noticed. She recovered quickly.

"Be safe, James." She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I will, M. I'll see you when I get back." It was a promise. James left, knowing that he had at some level gotten under her skin.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Again my MANY thanks to TemporaMores who beta read and added beautiful words to make this story readable! *hugs*

When Bond entered the flat he could hear the muffled moans through the closed bedroom door. The memory of her beneath him and her sounding very much the same made him grow slightly hard. Bond moved quietly away from the door into M's sitting room. He logged onto her laptop to leave her an update regarding his latest mission and to check the status of the documents that were being analyzed back at headquarters.

M walked into the room quietly after around fifteen minutes. Bond was still seated at her computer, and he turned to acknowledge her. "Ma'am." He had a steel gaze, giving nothing away of what he had heard upon arrival. He tried not to react to the fact she was wearing a red silk robe and, he was fairly certain, nothing underneath.

"Bond, what are you doing here?" She crossed her arms across her chest, pulling her robe tighter.

"I came to update you on the mission. Bladek has been brought in for questioning. If there is going to be any movement it will be within the next 48 hours but I'm fairly certain we've covered every possibility. The organization is at a standstill without him. Headquarters is aware and I thought you would want to know as soon as possible."

"Yes, quite. Were there any complications? Any covers that were compromised?"

"None that I'm aware of."

Bond had been undercover for four months and this was the first time she had seen him since his return. He looked tired, and was greatly in need of a shave and a shower, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Notwithstanding her reputation, she did actually care about her agents. Moreover, she could not deny that James held a special place among them. But she could not afford to show him this. So she simply said, "Good." and walked to pour herself a drink.

Bond rose from her computer with the intent on leaving.

She tried to do some calculations in her head. If he had been waiting for her, there was no way that he had not noticed the activity in their bedroom. But just on the off-chance that he had arrived later than that, she needed to know for sure. "How long have you been here, 007?" she asked while pouring the drink, not meeting his gaze.

Bond walked up beside her, leaned down and spoke softly in her ear, "Long enough to know I'm jealous of a man I've never met." His breath was hot against her ear.

M flushed. So he had heard them making love. "James –" she said slowly.

He cut her short. "Do you have any idea how many times I've replayed that night over in my head?" He had to be honest with her, although it was very difficult for him to admit.

"We can't do this." She sounded firm, but Bond knew her too well to take her answer at face value. It was obvious she had thought about that night, too. Her body language alone spoke volumes.

"Maybe we need to talk," he said. "Can you get away after work on Friday? Come to my flat. I promise to keep my hands to myself."

M nodded her agreement. Bond turned and left before he was tempted to touch her.

~~~~~~~Bond's flat~~~~~~

She must have come straight from work, Bond thought, glancing at the clock as he opened the door.

"Where is your security detail?" He ushered her inside, closing the door.

"In the lobby. I should be safe with a double-Oh agent, shouldn't I?" she quirked.

"Yes, Ma'am. Have a seat." He indicated the sofa across the room. "Bourbon?"

"Yes, please, a large one," she said, knowing this conversation would be difficult.

James poured them both a double and joined her, taking the chair opposite the sofa.

After taking a rather large swig of her Bourbon, she said, "We can't let this affect our work relationship, there is too much at stake for that. We knew that from the beginning."

"What do you expect me to do? Forget that it happened?" There was no way of forgetting. And he knew that it still affected her, too – in a glance or the slight increase of her breathing when he got too close. "I promised not to touch you, so I won't. But if I did, I don't believe you would be able to say no."

"That's why the boundaries are more important than ever." M insisted with a tone of resolve in her voice. After a while of silence, she added quietly, "James, why can't you let this go? We need to forget that it did happen." She had to say this even though she knew that neither of them would be able to put the memory of that night out of their mind.

"It was different being with you." Bond stared at the floor, unwilling to meet her eyes with that confession.

She snorted. "Yes, I'm old. What did you expect?"

His eyes snapped up. "Your age has nothing to do with how I feel."

He saw her eyes widen in reaction to his confession. He waited for a moment in case she wanted to say anything, but when she didn't, he continued talking. "Maybe it's because we know each other so well, or because you're the one person that I trust without question. It's not just sex." Bond's thoughts went back to that night; he had wanted to hold her, needing the closeness and security that her presence gave. She was one of the most important people in his life. After all, she knew more about him than anyone else, so in a way their relationship had been intimate even before they had consummated it.

M stood, her right hand pressed against her stomach as if she was trying to hold herself together. She walked over to the window, looking out, before she continued speaking. "I won't deny the attraction, James; you've made me feel things that I haven't felt for years. It's nice to feel wanted. But I love my husband and he doesn't deserve this."

James was unsure how to respond when M began speaking again, "Twenty years ago, maybe even ten, I would have been tempted to do whatever you had asked, but not now. We've been married nearly forty years, as long as you've been alive. It's not the first time either of us has strayed, of course. I was a double-Oh and he understood the nature of the job; get to the target by any means necessary." She took a drink before she continued. "He had a mistress for years, but he was very discreet. I can't say that I blame him; I still spend more time at the office than at home."

He wondered where she was going with this.

"However, at this point in our life, he deserves my loyalty," she finished. "I'm sorry."

There was silence. James swallowed, but did not reply. After all, what was there to say? She had been quite definitive. Any objection he could make would be crushed by the weight of her arguments. Or rather, the one argument. Loyalty. What could one possibly say against that? He would only lose her completely if he put more pressure on her. And he did not want to risk this. Having her friendship was better than not having anything at all. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

After some silence, he eventually spoke again. "I guess there is nothing more to say on the matter. But I do want you in my life, not only as my boss." He knew that 'want' was the wrong word to use in this instance, 'need' would have been more honest but he did not feel ready to fully admit this to her or to himself at this point. "Maybe we could be friends at least. I think we've crossed the boundary of just being professional colleagues."

There was more silence, but eventually M forced herself to reply. "I would like that. We should at least try." She finished the drink she'd been holding before adding, "I should go."

Bond nodded and followed close behind as she walked toward the door. They stopped at the entrance and she turned, meeting his gaze and holding it for a moment. No words passed between them, but her gaze said enough.

After she had left, James went to pour himself another drink, knowing it would be a long night. He just hoped that his store of alcohol would last him.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: I do not own anything Bond…oh how I wish. Thanks to Persiflage for beta reading and TemporaMores for the additions and beta! :-) I do promise things will be happier soon!

Months passed with no mention of their night together. Both Bond and M were professional at work but their relationship had steadily grown outside the office. They began to share a drink every now and then after a difficult day. Bond became a sounding board for M when the bureaucrats started breathing down her neck for one reason or another. She had even smashed one of his mugs during a particularly bad rant.

He was away weeks at a time. But upon every return M made sure she was the one to debrief him. She was slowly getting into his head, understanding why he made the choices he did while on a mission. This at least allowed for her to plead his case more easily if a mission became sticky.

Both made it a point not to touch the other.

Then Bond was away on a longer mission. One day he called headquarters to give an update and was surprised when Tanner informed him that M was not in due to personal leave. The majority of his correspondence had been though encrypted email as phone calls were difficult, and James had become concerned when he had not received a reply to his latest updates. He had known M to still be working at home with the flu, so something more serious must have happened. Tanner would give no other information over the phone. James knew he had to let this go and focus on the mission, so that was exactly what he did.

When he returned back to England a week later, he went straight to M's flat. It was nearly midnight when he let himself in and found her on the sofa, looking rather disheveled.

"007, I see you made it back in one piece."

James walked over to stand near the sofa, inspecting her more closely. "Yes, Ma'am. Is everything alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"When I last called to report in Tanner said you were off on personal leave, and you're not looking your best at the moment." He picked up the half empty bottle, inspecting it. "How much have you had to drink?"

"That's none of your concern," M said sharply, taking the bottle back from him. She was quiet for a moment before her gaze fell and focused on the floor. "He died quickly; the doctors say he probably didn't even feel pain. He was found slumped over the desk in his office, a massive heart attack." She paused for a moment. "The flat is just so quiet without him here."

Bond finally realized who the "he" was whom she had been referring to with the last statement. "M, I'm sorry." Unsure of how to proceed he stood stone still, settling for conveying his compassion in his gaze. She patted the space beside her on the sofa, wiped the corners of her eyes and gave his hand a slight squeeze.

He joined her on the sofa. They sat in silence for a time, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Would you stay for a while? I'd just like to know someone is here."

"Of course."

M rose to walk to the kitchen to place her glass in the dishwasher.

"Have you eaten?"

"I had food on the plane."

She walked back to stand in front of him, looking down to meet his gaze. "Help yourself to anything that you need, I'm just going to have a quick shower."

She walked toward the stairs to go to her room. Bond stayed seated for a few moments, trying to take everything in. After some time he rose and went upstairs to check on her. As he went toward the bedroom door he could hear M crying softly. He had never heard or seen her cry before. He stood frozen to that spot, just listening, unable to move. He was conflicted as to what he should do.

Eventually he made up his mind and walked to her door, pushing it open with little effort. She sat at her dressing table, hair still wet from the shower, dressed in a dressing gown, holding her face in her hands. James lightly touched her shoulders, startling her as she had not heard him come into the room.

He felt her struggling, but after a few moments she broke down in tears. She leaned her head against him, sobbing, making incoherent sentences. He caught only one. "I miss him so."

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her eyes and trying to blink away the tears. She looked embarrassed.

He had never seen her display any signs of weakness in front of employees before, and she knew it. He moved around her chair, knelt down and took her in his arms. "Don't be," he said. "Just let it out." The position he was in was becoming uncomfortable and he didn't want to leave her. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the guest bedroom, thinking that distance from the bed she had shared with her husband might help. He cradled her body close to his as he moved to lie on the bed.

She looked startled but was quickly put at ease as he whispered, "I'm just going to hold you. You need comfort and this is all that I can offer." She cried herself to sleep. He watched her for several minutes after her breathing had evened out and her tears had stopped falling. The woman who could stare down governments, killers, and even death, had just crumbled in his arms.

They both awoke at the same time, hearing her alarm from her bedroom across the hall. She was sprawled across his chest while his arms had remained securely wrapped around her holding her close.

"James?" The look on M's face was one of confusion. Then she remembered. Conflicting emotions crossed her face. Mortification was chief among them, but there was also gratefulness, and something that he could not quite pin down.

"Thank you," she told him.

"You are welcome," he replied.


End file.
